


This Is Just What Human Means (For Me)

by WoodenSuitcase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Charlie Weasley, Baking, Charlie Weasley Needs a Hug, Chickens, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Growing Up, Hugs, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Period Accurate, POV Charlie Weasley, POV Third Person Limited, Parent-Child Relationship, Pillow Fights, Sibling Bonding, Supportive Bill Weasley, Tickling, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodenSuitcase/pseuds/WoodenSuitcase
Summary: Out of the family, only Bill knew Charlie was aroace. It wasn't that Charlie didn't want to tell the others – he just never seemed to find the right moment for it! When the perfect opportunity arose in the form of a Christmas visit to the Burrow, Charlie made it his mission to finally come out. As it turns out, things never go as smoothly as one intends, even with his older brother by his side.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley & Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley & Charlie Weasley, Charlie Weasley & Molly Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60
Collections: SL Discord Writing Events





	This Is Just What Human Means (For Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Shifting Lines Discord, thank you for the prompts and the help. Special thanks to the wonderful [somniumfelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somniumfelix/pseuds/somniumfelix) for beta reading this! <3  
> The title is from For Me by Dearlie, one of my favourite ace songs.

The sky was bright. Cloudless, light blue, a taste of ice in the air – a perfect day for flying, the Seeker part of Charlie's mind noted. The wind was gentle but had a bite to it, and the snow came up to Charlie's ankles as he waded through the yard with Bill and dad. They were going to hang muggle lights outside while the others baked and decorated inside the house.

The laughter from the Burrow grew ever fainter in the background the closer they got to the garage. Charlie smiled a little. It hadn't been all that long since he'd last seen his family – they'd all been together in Egypt last summer, so it had only been half a year – but still it felt strange to be back in the Burrow. It also felt strange that it was strictly "the Burrow" now. When Charlie thought of home, it was always his little cabin in Romania, not the house he had grown up in. When had that changed?

(Despite it being Christmas Eve, he wasn't feeling excited either, only on edge. Many things were changing all at the same time.)

"Just wait until you see the lights," dad said, dodging a chicken as they approached the garage. "It's like a hundred little lumos spells tied to a string! The muggles really know how to make their Christmas magical..."

He didn't seem to notice that only Bill was listening. Charlie was busy thinking (and trying not to think) about a secret. It wasn't just any secret, like what gifts he had got for his family – no, this was something more personal. Something Charlie had been holding in for years.

Out of the family, only Bill knew Charlie was aromantic and asexual. They had already been writing regularly, having both laughs and deep conversations over the letters. Thus when Charlie had finally found the words for himself, it had only felt natural for Bill to be the first person he told about them. Bill also remained the _only_ person he'd told. Charlie's friends in Romania knew too, but that was because they had been the ones to introduce him to the idea in the first place.

It wasn't that Charlie didn't want to tell the rest of his family. He just never seemed to find the right moment for it. It wasn't often that he saw them in-person (it was so difficult to leave the dragons!), and when he did... well. He had still been questioning when mum, dad and Ginny had visited him the Christmas before the last, and in Egypt, despite telling Bill he was going to do it then, he had simply chickened out. Had the others reacted badly he still would have been stuck with them for the rest of the trip, and that would have been just awful for everyone involved.

But Charlie wanted to come out soon. Mum kept asking him about potential partners in her letters, and Charlie didn't know how much longer he could take it. Besides, it felt weird, hiding such a large part of himself from some of the people he loved the most. And there were puns to be made. So, so many puns.

When the plans for this Christmas had been sealed, Charlie had written Bill and told him this would be it. The visit would only be a few days, so Charlie wouldn't face the same problem as in Egypt, and he could come out to almost anyone he wanted to since everyone but Ron was here. (He had stayed at Hogwarts with his friends – a good decision, according to mum, who thought someone should be there to keep Harry out of trouble. Ginny reminded her the two had gotten into plenty of trouble together. Dad had quickly said that Hogwarts was the safest place in the world and surely they couldn't get into too much trouble inside the castle. Charlie thought about Norbert and didn't say anything.)

Dad opened the garage doors, went inside and soon emerged with a mess of long, dark cord. There were small light bulbs attached to it at steady intervals. Dad was beaming. Bill and Charlie shared a look.

"I see your unimpressed faces," dad said, "but I promise that soon you'll be swept away with wonder. Fairy lights aren't a classic Christmas decoration for nothing."

"Fairy lights?" Charlie asked, eyeing the very un-fairylike cord. "Where does the name come from?"

"I have no clue!" dad said gleefully. "Fairies have absolutely nothing to do with it! I don't know how muggles keep coming up with these things."

Dad showed them where they would hang the lights – on the edge of the roof, and only that of the garage, for dad suspected that all the magic in the proper house might be enough to break them. They'd be avoiding using too complex magic for the same reason. Dad handed Charlie and Bill some cord and they all started untangling it by hand.

If only it could have been as easy sorting the mess inside Charlie's head. Bill and dad talked as they worked, but Charlie only responded with noncommittal nods and noises, deep in thought. When did he want to come out? How? Did he want to tell people one by one, or everyone at once? How would he word it? The questions had been clouding and swarming in his head all day, from when he woke up to when he used the portkey to when he arrived to now, and still he had not a single answer. Somehow he hadn't thought it would be this complicated. He vaguely remembered having thought the same in Egypt.

As they untangled the cord, it turned out to be not one but multiple strings of lights. Dad hung a few cords on his shoulders but left one in his hands.

"I'm thinking that two of us will levitate the ends of this, one will put attachment spells on the roof, and we'll take the cord to it bit by bit. Does this sound good?"

Bill chose to do the attachment spells, and so dad and Charlie ended up with the levitation. Bill and dad kept talking while Charlie absent-mindedly observed his grip on his wand. He was surprised to see how steady it was. He felt anything but.

"How about you, Charlie?" dad asked, and Charlie snapped back to attention.

"Huh?"

"How have you been?" dad repeated with a smile.

Charlie floated the end of the cord to one of the spell places, and it attached to the roof like a magnet.

"I've been great. The little ones' fireballs are getting hotter by day." He glanced at dad. "Why are you asking? I write to you, don't I?"

Dad chuckled. "You do, you do, but the letters always end up being more about the dragons than yourself."

"Oh," said Charlie, and Bill laughed. "Well, I'm good." He took another bit of the lights to a spell.

Something about dad's expression was weird, and Charlie paused to look at him. "What?"

"Are you sure?" dad asked. "You've been rather quiet today."

Charlie froze. It had been that obvious? Though, thinking back on it, dad was right. Charlie should have talked more, or said something right away so no one had to worry – but he couldn't just outright _say_ the thing, right? Or could he? He _should_ , that was the whole idea with coming out – his plan for this visit – but he didn't know what he was doing and it was just him and dad and Bill here and –

"Wingardium leviosa!" With speed and a spell Bill saved one of the cords from slipping from dad's shoulders and into the snow. "Water's bad for electrics, right? It might be better to just fetch the lights one by one from inside."

Dad agreed and gave the cords to Bill. Charlie watched his brother disappear into the garage. Now it was only him and dad.

Dad was looking at Charlie again, concerned, caring, his face set into a frown. A chicken was screeching its egg song farther in the yard. "You were quiet in Egypt, too," dad said. "You don't have to talk about whatever it is if you don't want to, but... I'm here if you need it, y'know?"

Charlie swallowed and nodded. He was saved from having to think of an answer by Bill returning from the garage.

"What's the white cord for?" he asked dad, but the way he was looking at Charlie told he'd noticed something was off. Charlie gave him a slight shrug only to notice how tense his shoulders were. He forced himself to relax. This wasn't the end of the world. Just spending time with his family.

"It's called a power strip," dad happily explained, his attention now fully off of Charlie. Charlie gave Bill a grateful smile, to which Bill imitated his earlier shrug and smirked. "Once we get all the lights attached to the roof, we will connect them to it, and that will cause the bulbs to light up."

They returned to work, levitating and waiting and carefully attaching. Every now and then they'd get a new cord from the garage.

What if Charlie just told dad? He didn't have to tell everyone at the same time – this might even go easier, as he would only have to handle one person's reaction at a time. Dad would probably take it alright anyway. He never pestered him the way mum did, and if he didn't like what he heard at least he'd stay quiet about it unlike mum – she was lovely, but dad understood privacy better and didn't press. It would be fine. Bill was there to help. Charlie would be okay.

Despite all that, his mouth stayed shut and his feet rooted to place. He'd kept the secret for so long now. Did the whole thing matter anyway? He could just take the questions and the feeling of distance and stay quiet and not have to deal with –

"There we go," dad said. They'd hung up all the cord, the empty lights going around the garage like vines. "Now we only need to light them up!"

He got the power strip from the door, connected the cords – and nothing happened. Charlie vaguely remembered something similar having happened before, with a... heever? Hoover? It had made a lot of noise once they had finally got it to work, and Percy had become so annoyed he'd accidentally made it explode.

"Is it connected to the main power source?" Bill asked.

Dad's face lit up. "That might be it! Thank you!" He hurried inside, a good path forming at the mouth of the garage where they'd all kept going in and out.

Bill nudged Charlie. "Everything okay?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"There's no hurry, remember? You can put it off again if you want."

Charlie hummed.

There was a _click_ and the fairy lights lit up. Every little bulb was a different colour, and the lights reflected off the snow like a glimmering rainbow. Dad hurried out and his face lit up too, full of awe and wonder.

"That's pretty cool," Bill said.

"It is, isn't it?" Dad took off to see the other side of the garage, his sons following him. Charlie felt mildly amused, and from what he could tell from Bill's expression, he felt the same. "Look at them!" The lights were mirrored in dad's eyes, shone like small stars. "They're so beautiful."

They were also somewhat high up. "Muggles don't have levitation spells," Charlie realised. "How do they do this?"

Dad blinked. "I have no idea. Maybe I'll have Ron ask Harry or Hermione when I next write to him." He eyed the distance between the ground and the lights. "Maybe they make piles out of snow that they can stand on?"

"That seems like it would take a lot of time," Bill pointed out. "Maybe they climb onto each other's shoulders?"

Dad shrugged. They stood there for a while, admiring the lights. Charlie didn't find them as impressive as ones made with magic – let alone _actual_ fairies like in Hogwarts – but he had to admit they were rather pretty anyway. He smiled a little at the red bulbs, old house pride rising up, and at the orange and yellow, for they reminded him of the little sparks dragonlings would shoot up. His eyes wandered to the purple and green.

Purple and green, like the flags.

"Dad," he said before he could stop himself.

"Yeah?"

Charlie took a deep breath. It would be fine.

"I'm aroace," he said.

Bill turned so fast his ponytail smacked him on the cheek, his eyebrows high up. Dad looked politely confused.

"A what now?"

The cold winter air felt like little knives in Charlie's lungs, and he hesitated. "Aromantic and asexual," he said. Waited. Dad still looked confused, and Charlie was hit with how bad of an idea this had been. This wouldn't be fast, not like coming out as gay would be, because no one knew the words – _he_ hadn't known the words – and it would already have been scary without having to explain everything. "It's, um. People get attracted to each other? Like you and mum? And usually people have all sorts of attraction all in one and maybe call it love, but sometimes people lack one of those – for example, asexual people don't get sexually attracted to anyone – so there is this thing called the split attraction model..." Charlie trailed off. Dad and Bill were staring, and dad looked even more confused than before. Charlie bit his cheek. "There must be an easier way to explain this."

"It was the same when he told me," Bill said to dad with a smile, "it took a while to decipher it."

"I don't know how to explain it in a better way!" Charlie said. He felt dizzy. "There's so much to it. And I'm nervous."

"Take your time," dad said. His smile was encouraging, and Charlie tried to let it in. It would be okay. It _would_.

Bill moved closer and laid a supportive hand on Charlie's shoulder. "How was it explained to _you?_ "

The touch was warm, grounding. Charlie took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"It's like... you know how hetero people like the, uh..." he made quick air quotes, "'opposite' gender, and gay people like the same one as theirs?"

Dad nodded.

"Basically, aroace people don't like anyone. Not like that."

Dad stood still for a moment, taking the information in – and then his face _relaxed,_ took on a relieved smile, and Charlie didn't know what he'd expected dad's reaction to be but it certainly wasn't this. "That's what you've been worrying about?"

Charlie stared. "Yes?"

"Thank goodness." Dad ran a hand through his hair and let out a little laugh. "I'd feared it was something bad."

...This _wasn't_ bad?

Wind blew, sent powdery snow dancing around their feet.

"You're... okay with this?" Charlie asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Charlie didn't know what to say.

Bill drew him into a side hug. "You're fine, Charlie. You did great."

Charlie was still staring at dad. "You aren't surprised?"

Dad smiled thoughtfully. "A little, I suppose. I'm surprised there's a word for it, but not that you're... like that. You have never been interested in dating, and I haven't really been expecting for that to change at this point."

"Oh."

"He's been really nervous to tell you," Bill said.

"I didn't know how you'd react," Charlie explained, rubbing his neck. "I thought – I don't know. That you wouldn't like it."

Dad shook his head. "I like anything that's you," he said warmly. "Each and every part, and nothing will ever change that." He considered for a second, then opened his arms – and many things may have changed, but at that moment Charlie fell into his father's arms and buried his face into his chest just like he'd done as a little boy.

"I love you," Charlie murmured, the sound muffled by dad's winter cloak.

"I love you too," dad said.

Charlie shifted his head so he could see Bill, still standing where he'd left him. "C'mere, Bill. Group hug."

Bill chuckled and joined in. He and dad were both taller than Charlie, and he enjoyed the warmth and shelter their bodies brought. Charlie leaned more into them. He suddenly felt exhausted.

"Who all know?" dad asked.

"Just you two," Charlie said. Then thought for a moment. "And pretty much everyone I know in Romania. I've been wanting to tell you!" he hurried to add. "I just wanted to do it face-to-face, and... well. I see my coworkers a lot more often than I do all of you."

"That's understandable," dad said. His hand was rubbing circles on Charlie's back.

"Are you going to tell the others?" Bill asked.

...Well, dad had taken it well. Perhaps the others would too? "Maybe. Probably." Charlie drew back slightly so he could look at dad properly. "How do you think mum would take it?"

"She loves you just as much as I do," dad assured. "She might be a bit confused, like I was at first, but I doubt there are going to be any more problems than that."

Charlie bit his lip. "Are you sure? She's always asking about girls and when I'm going to start dating."

"I think she's mostly teasing," Bill said.

"It's also an attempt to get more out of your letters than just news about the dragons," dad said, a smile in his voice. When Charlie didn't say anything, he sighed softly and continued. "Even if she did have something against this, I'm sure she would come around eventually. She can be stubborn, but like I said, we love you and nothing is going to change that. This new information might take some time to get used to, for both her and me, but we would never reject you for it."

They pulled away from the hug. Dad was smiling, gentle and steady. His eyes held the same love they'd always had.

Charlie smiled. "Thanks, dad."

Dad patted his back. "Now, I think I heard something earlier about gingerbread biscuits. We should probably make sure the others won't 'taste test' _everything_ , hm?"

"I bet they already have," Bill said a little bitterly, and Charlie laughed.

They turned back towards the house, Bill clapped Charlie on the back, and they walked back up the path they'd formed on their way to the garage.

  
  


It was Christmas Day. The presents had been opened and breakfast had been eaten, and the sun was climbing high up in the sky. Yesterday's taste testing had indeed required every last biscuit, and so mum was baking more with Bill and Percy's help. The rest of the family was in the living room. Celestina Warbeck was playing in the background, though she could barely be heard over the ruckus Fred, George and Ginny were causing. The trio was laughing, messing around with decorative pillows, jumping over couches – dad and Charlie had to duck on occasion to avoid being hit by pillows or knees or elbows. Dad was wearing the kind of smile that said he knew he should tell them to stop but didn't have the heart to do so.

Charlie was smiling too. Ginny had been weird last summer, all jumpy and quiet, which was perfectly understandable after all she'd gone through in her very first year of Hogwarts. Charlie couldn't be happier to see that she was getting better.

"What species is that?" Ginny asked, having left Fred and George alone for a second to stop by Charlie. Everyone was wearing their new jumpers, and Charlie's sported a red dragon.

Charlie looked down at the shirt and considered. "I'm not really sure. The general body shape reminds me of a Swedish Short-Snout, which the muzzle would also fit, but the colour doesn't match."

"Must be a rare species," dad said.

"I told mum she should find a book and make a realistic one this time," Ginny said, "but she never listens to me, does she?"

Charlie smiled. "I can't wait to show this to my coworkers. Cătălina will be so jealous." And laughing her ass off, and they would all spend a while coming up with silly names for the 'new species'. The same had happened last year. Charlie had a lot of dragon jumpers and he loved each of them to bits.

Something soft collided with the back of Charlie's head. In one swift movement he grabbed the pillow and turned around.

"It was meant for Ginny!" George yelped. Charlie didn't hesitate to chuck the pillow back, straight into the G in his brother's chest. The twins hadn't switched their jumpers this year – rare, but it happened, for doing it every time would get too predictable. Fred caught the pillow before it hit the floor and Charlie ducked right before it came flying over his head again. He peeked over the backrest and saw the twins unarmed.

"Uh-oh," said Fred.

Charlie jumped over the couch, ran to them and assaulted them with tickles. It quickly turned out to be a bad idea, as there were two twins and only one of him.

"Stop!" Charlie wheezed, sliding to the floor, constantly attacked by four swift hands. "Please, guys, _stop_ _–_ " It was hard to get words out between the laughter. He had half a mind to apparate, but it was too difficult to focus and he didn't want to split.

"Oomph!" Fred fell onto the floor with him, a grinning Ginny on his back. George changed targets to her which left Charlie free and allowed him to get up and attack George again. Ginny screamed with laughter, Fred wheezed from under her, Charlie cackled as George started giggling and wriggling under his hands.

"What's going on?" said Percy's voice. His siblings all stopped and looked up. Percy had emerged from the kitchen, mixing a bowl of icing for the biscuits. They all were still for a moment, but then Percy made a move to go back and the mess of Weasleys shot up from the floor, reaching for him. "No you don't!" Percy yelped, stumbling backwards towards the kitchen. "I'm baking!"

"Let him be!" dad half-heartedly called from the couch.

Charlie huffed but smiled and grabbed the twins' hands to keep them from Percy and nailed Ginny in place with a look. "They're right, mum won't like it if we get icing everywhere."

The youngest three made a disappointed sound but backed off.

"Dad," Percy said now that he was fairly sure he was safe, "mum wanted you in the kitchen – your 'electric kettle' is acting up and we don't quite know what to do with it."

"Right away," dad said, getting up.

"She wanted you too, Charlie."

Charlie's stomach fell through the floor. Did she know? Had dad told him? Charlie looked at him, but he had already disappeared into the kitchen. Charlie gave Percy a stiff nod, and he handed him the icing.

"I don't want to bake anymore," he explained as Charlie accepted the bowl. "I have some work I've been meaning to do, and _–_ "

"You do understand what you have just done, right?" Charlie asked him.

Percy looked perplexed as Charlie left, but based on the ungodly screech Charlie heard as soon as he turned his back, the confusion cleared up quickly. By handing away the bowl Percy had lost his only protection from his younger siblings.

"Ah, there you are, Charlie," mum said as he entered the room. Dad was already fighting his strange machine, lukewarm water getting all over the place. Bill gave Charlie a nod from where he was cutting the biscuit dough into shapes. Charlie nodded back, but his limbs felt like lead. Dad had taken it well, and he had said mum would probably be fine with it too, but... Charlie couldn't help but be nervous. Mum met his eyes, and he prepared himself for the questions.

"Can you take the first batch out of the oven? The oven mitts escaped and you're the best at fire protection spells."

Charlie blinked. _Baking._ She wanted help with baking. "Yeah, I can – I can do that."

"Thank you, dear."

He was safe. She didn't know. But she _should_ know, and there wasn't much time left to tell her.

Charlie set the icing bowl on the one empty space left on the counter, charmed his hands so they wouldn't burn, and opened the oven door. A cloud of hot, sweet-smelling air puffed out and onto his face, and he stuck his hands inside. The baking sheet barely felt warm to the touch. He almost set it on the stovetop, but the room was already taken by another baking sheet half filled with raw biscuits.

"Where do I put this?"

Mum scanned the counters for empty space. There was none.

"You could levitate it?" Bill suggested, to which dad vehemently shook his head, sending droplets flying from his now-wet hair.

"We've done that before. It can float down, and someone _will_ forget about it and hit their head."

Charlie mused over this. "You can just heal that though?"

"Yes," said mum, "but the biscuits will all come raining down on the floor and be trampled over in seconds by whoever was hurt. It's a mess and a waste. Could you please just hold it for a while?"

"Sure," said Charlie, and did his best to find a place in the kitchen where he was the least in the way. He could hear the occasional yell of one of his younger siblings, but they were far enough now that conversation couldn't be overheard.

Charlie scanned over the people in the kitchen. Bill knew, dad knew – it was only mum.

This was his chance.

There was no way to know whether he would have another on this visit.

Dare he take it?

Dad finally managed to nail the kettle down and hexed it to stay put.

"Mum," Charlie said before he could overthink. She hummed in acknowledgement, charming the icing to mix itself. "I, um..." Dad looked up and at him and mum, a curious yet cautious look on his face. Bill hadn't stopped with the biscuits, but he'd slowed down, and Charlie could tell he was listening. "You know how you, um, like to ask me about girls?"

Mum stopped and whirled around, her eyes sparkling. "Have you found someone?"

"No, no, that's not what I'm _–_ "

"Are you sure?" Her tone was teasing – she thought he was just being shy – and she meant well, but it irritated Charlie.

"Yes," he said. "I haven't found anyone. And I never will."

Mum's expression fell into a worried frown, and Charlie could feel himself tense under her eyes. Dad was carefully watching her face, following the reaction – Bill had turned around and was doing the same, but more focused on Charlie.

"Don't say that," mum said. "You're a talented, handsome boy – girls were all over you when you were a Quidditch Captain – and it doesn't have to be a girl either if you don't want. Charlie, I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd love to be with you."

Charlie fought the urge to cringe. Bill didn't bother to suppress his grimace, but he was out of mum's view. "That's not what I meant," Charlie said.

"Is it your job? You could always ask for more free time – or what about your coworkers? Cătălina sounds like a lovely person –"

"Mum, no!" Charlie yelped. "No, I don't – it's not that I have trouble finding a partner, it's that I don't _want_ one."

"Surely you do," mum said, and Charlie bristled.

"No, I don't."

Mum sighed and shook her head with a smile, then turned and started again with the flour, dough and the rolling pin. "Many people have this phase at some point, but trust me, it'll pass once you just find the right person." She looked at dad. "Isn't that right, Arthur? Remember Benjy Fenwick?"

Dad looked uneasy. "Well, yes, but _–_ "

"It's not a _phase_ ," Charlie hissed. "Mum, I'm – I'm aroace."

Mum looked at him, her brow furrowed. "A what now?"

"Aroace," Bill said. He had crossed his arms at some point and was leaning against the counter. "Short for aromantic and asexual." He glanced at Charlie, who nodded. Bill was calmer, so maybe with him explaining mum would take it more seriously. "It basically means not liking anyone, the same way being gay means someone likes the same gender as they are."

Mum just frowned harder. "Is this a prank you two are playing?"

Charlie gripped the baking sheet harder.

"It's not," Bill said.

"I believe them, Molly," dad said softly. "It fits Charlie, doesn't it? He has never _–_ "

"Oh, don't you go encouraging this nonsense," mum said, and what hope Charlie had left finally fell and shattered against the floor like the glass ornaments he had nicked for Quidditch practise when he was nine. "Not liking anyone – that's not a thing."

"It is," Charlie insisted. "I've been researching this, I've been _–_ "

"Just because it's been written down doesn't mean it's real, you need to think critically, you know this _–_ "

" _Mum_ _–_ _"_

"Charlie!" She was using the same sharp tone as when Charlie kept asking if they could get a pet dragon. "You're _nineteen_. I understand wanting to understand the world right away, but some knowledge only comes with experience. Making up things – making decisions of this scale at your age – it will only lead to slowing down on learning those things. Love is the one thing that connects all humans, and I'm yet to meet a single person who didn't eventually find it." She smiled and shifted to a gentler tone. "I know you, dear, and I know you have a huge heart full of love. There's no need to rush things: it will all come with time."

Charlie gripped the baking sheet even harder. Something pattered at his feet, and mum looked down _–_ Charlie absently realized he was no longer holding it straight and that biscuits were sliding to the floor. Dad hurried for his wand and had the rest stop in the air.

"If you don't know anyone like that," Charlie said softly, his voice hardly steadier than his hands, his eyes locked into mum's, "then you don't know _me_."

He let go of the baking sheet, heard it clatter onto the floor as he turned and left the room. He barely noticed when he passed the writhing pile that were his younger siblings, didn't answer when one of them called his name, picked up his pace and only stopped to get his boots on. _I've got a cauldron full of hot, strong love,_ Celestina sang, and Charlie slammed the door shut before he could hear more. Winter air hit his face like a dragon's claw and a silken blanket.

The yard was achingly familiar. Countless games of not-quite-Quidditch behind the trees, Bill helping him attach wings to gnomes before throwing them over the fence, splashing around in the pond at summer pretending he was a Norwegian Ridgeback on a hunt. Often Charlie had liked coming out to the yard just to _be_ – the quiet was nice, sometimes, and he'd always been an outdoorsy person.

He'd always been a _person_.

_Love is the one thing that connects all humans._

It was familiar, the ache. Back in Hogwarts, his dormmates were always discussing crushes, rating the girls, hiding magazines with pictures that made Charlie only feel awkward. _Who do you like_ , they'd ask, _c'mon, Charlie, there must be someone_ , and finally Charlie would go to Tonks because she was his closest friend and surely that was what they all meant – but the kiss was just weird and wet and Tonks laughed at the face he made and he never tried it with anyone again.

_Love is the one thing that connects all humans._

Charlie kicked the snow. It wasn't like he had ever felt connected to other people anyway. It had always been dragons.

(And his friends, and his siblings, and his _parents_.)

Charlie cursed and kicked the snow harder, considered walking over the flower bed. He returned to the Burrow for the first time in ages and mum's response was to alienate him? He opened up to her about something that was very important to him, and her response was to shoot him down?

He'd _known_ it would go badly. The whole thing was obscure – and just like he couldn't imagine the world the others lived in, they couldn't imagine his – and it wasn't like mum was necessarily wrong, for how could he truly know? What if he _did_ one day find someone? What if one day he had a kiss he enjoyed and he got married and fucked and had a litter of kids for his parents to dote on?

The image left an icky taste in his mouth. He searched for a thought to replace it, landed on _is this a prank you two are playing_ and then wished he had settled on the marriage. Absently he noticed he was shaking. It felt sort of validating. Like his body was acknowledging what his mind was going through.

_I know you, dear._

He walked to a patch of snow, where he knew a flower bed was, and stomped. Took his foot back, stared at the flat print. Maybe it would have felt better had anyone actually cared about the flowers. He gave another stomp anyway before stepping away.

He didn't hear the door, but he saw the chickens raise their heads. Charlie refused to turn around. Whoever it was, maybe they would read his mood and understand it was better to leave him alone. Mum probably wouldn't, but, well – Charlie knew how to apparate, and while he couldn't go straight to Romania, he had the money to spend the night in the Leaky Cauldron if he so wished.

The steps came closer, and he recognised the walking pattern, knew the sound of dragon skin boots on snow.

"I'm not in the mood, Bill," he said. His own voice surprised him. It wavered, and his stuffy nose made the n sound wrong.

"I know you're mad, but I'm not having you freeze to death," said Bill, stopping a little behind him, and Charlie bristled.

"I'm not mad," he said.

"Well, I am," said Bill, and Charlie turned around. Bill looked calm enough, but there was tension in his face. It quickly gave way to concern. "You're shaking," he said. "Here."

In his extended hand was Charlie's cloak – he hadn't realised he'd left it behind, nor that he'd been cold (was that the real reason he was shaking?), and standing here now, with Bill already donning the appropriate winter wear, Charlie felt a little embarrassed.

"Take it before you get hypothermia."

Charlie did, taking his time with the clasp as his fingers were stiff from the cold. The fire protection spell probably wasn't helping.

"Mum will come around eventually," Bill said. "Dad's talking to her."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I also told her you've identified this way for two to three years."

Charlie stuffed his hands in his pockets in an attempt to warm them. "How'd she react?"

"I don't know," Bill confessed. "I shot out to keep the others from coming after you – they all really wanted to know what was going on – then came after you."

"Did you tell them?"

"What? No! Of course not. It's your business, just like with mum and dad. I told them not to tell either, and dad agreed to it." Bill produced a napkin from his wand and offered it. Charlie stared. "You've been crying. Don't want it freezing on your face."

Charlie touched his face and was surprised when his fingers truly came away wet. Warmth rushed to his ears. "I shouldn't be this upset," he muttered, more to himself than Bill.

"You have all the right," Bill said, but Charlie shook his head.

"I knew it might not go well. I _expected_ it to not go well. And this isn't even the worst it could've gone, not by any means! This was almost _good!_ "

"Stress on _almost_ ," Bill grumbled.

"She meant well!" Charlie insisted. "She thought I was just insecure, she –"

"Just because she didn't know she was saying shitty things doesn't make them not shitty!" Bill snapped. Charlie quieted, and Bill continued with a gentler tone. "And whatever her intent was, it doesn't change that she refused to listen to you. She refused to wait and let you explain. It's totally okay to be upset."

Charlie let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It froze into a white cloud before dissipating. "How do I know she isn't right?" he said anyway. "How do I know it's not a phase?"

Bill thought for a while. "Maybe you _don't_ know," he eventually said, and Charlie lifted his head in surprise. "Maybe you won't ever be attracted to anyone. Maybe you will. We can't know what happens in the future, so in my opinion it's best to do what feels best in the now. Even if you find out later that you were wrong, if the label felt right and made you happy for a time, it wasn't for nothing. If you keep waiting for something to happen, you'll just spend forever in an indecisive limbo."

Charlie made a face. "Why are you so wise? It's unfair."

"Older sibling rights."

"I'm an older sibling too."

"Yeah, but I'm the _oldest_ ," Bill said, and snagged Charlie into his side. Charlie yelped but didn't pull away when Bill messed up his hair, then left and arm over Charlie's shoulders. The warmth felt nice, as did the closeness. Though something still bothered him.

"She said that love is the thing that connects all humans," Charlie said. "Like it's – like it's _inhuman_ not to... y'know."

Bill scoffed, then flipped Charlie around and into a hug. Charlie made a noise of surprise but hugged back. He used to be mad about Bill staying taller than him, but it was nice to be able to bury his face into his chest.

"That's dragon dung," Bill said. "Anyone who says you don't love hasn't heard you talk about work. You _adore_ those monsters."

"Monsters? They're really just –" Charlie started, and Bill groaned.

"I know, I know, just animals trying their best. Still, you've got to admit they've got some pretty sharp bits and aren't afraid to use them."

"The same goes for chickens," Charlie pointed out, and Bill laughed.

They were quiet for a bit. Bill was warm, and Charlie melted against him. It was like a part of Egypt's climate had moved into Bill's body and made its home there.

"Besides," Bill continued, "that's like, the worst thing by which to define humanity. First of all there's the obvious of goblins and merpeople and whatnot having the same sort of relationships, but also, like, _animals_. Swans mate for life. And I'm sure you've seen a life's share of dragons fucking."

"If only," Charlie said into his chest. "There's a pair of Romanian Longhorns we need to get to breed but they just _won't_ , despite them both clearly wanting eggs. It's _so_ annoying. We might have to do a swap with another area of the sanctuary, and the moves are always so stressful for the dragons."

Bill chuckled.

They stood there for a while, hugging, enjoying each other's company. It sort of reminded Charlie of their early childhood. It had been a long time now since it was only them.

He only realised it had started snowing when he felt flakes melt on his neck.

"This younger sibling thinks we should go inside," Charlie said, not moving anywhere.

Bill sighed. "We probably should." Charlie could hear the smirk in his voice in the next words. "The _oldest_ sibling, as always, does one better and says we should get hot chocolates while we're at it."

"Piss off," Charlie said warmly as he pulled away. His front and back immediately felt cold without Bill's body and arms.

They walked back to the door, but Charlie hesitated before stepping in.

"I can bring them upstairs if you want to avoid mum," Bill said.

Charlie smiled. "Bring some biscuits too."

"You think I hadn't already thought of that? You wound me."

"What can I say?" Charlie grinned. "I am an arrow ace after all."

Bill rolled his eyes and laughed, and together they stepped back into the warmth of the Burrow.


End file.
